


Ryan's Ranch: The Novelisation

by MeltyMetroid



Category: supermega
Genre: F/M, Novelisation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 12:02:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16304840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeltyMetroid/pseuds/MeltyMetroid
Summary: Ryan Mason Dixon Magee sees a sparkling light atop the mountain overlooking his ranch and embarks on a journey to recover it.





	1. The Distant Glimmer Atop Giant’s Hill

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [SuperMegaCast - EP 112: Ryan's Ranch: The Movie](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/424190) by SuperMega. 



> If you have not listened to SuperMegaCast EP 112 you won't understand a single thing in this story. I highly suggest checking that out first at https://youtu.be/A9yApJX5Ojg?t=2123
> 
> This is a novelisation of the Ryan's Ranch story created by Matt Watson and Ryan Magee. I tried to stick to the original telling as closely as possible to keep authenticity.

Do you take pride in what you do? Could you claim truth to that, with hand on your heart and your head held high?

A life in the city is one of  _ servitude. _ Not just those beneath the will of the unfeeling public or a callous boss or a board strewn with the hands of harsh and ruthless faces kept unseen, no, a life in the city is one of slavery _ no matter what you find yourself locked to _ . Slave to the sickening plumes of traffic pollution. Slave to the concrete walls that climb tall from all around. Slave to the inescapable hum of machine ever present no matter where you hide.

If that is the life you live then you are as beta as the unhinged jaw in your stills.

A rancher’s, however, life is one of tranquility: the harder you work, the more plentiful the harvest. That’s good and honest work and I implore you to find a rancher worth their cattle that would tell you any differently. It’s a fairness that no desk jockey could ever achieve in the smog-laden city - a fairness, I would argue, that they would never manage to even  _ understand _ . A fairness rich with benefits only the beautiful countryside could provide: clean air, green grass, a warming sun... What could be better than a life on the ranch?

Arizona, New Mexico. A quiet town far from the towers and taxis. Far from the ill humanity irreversibly sowed into the rock of the earth. They sowed a far brighter vision here in Arizona:  _ Wheat. Corn. Raddish. Poppy. _ And above all else? Pride.

Ryan Mason Dixon Magee. A name many here would give a respectful nod to - one rightly deserved. Few had bad to say of the man, and little at that when they did. He was something of a hero to the people of Arizona, with word of his ranch stretching from the horizon’s sun to the horizon’s blue.

Despite his remarkable grandeur, Ryan was in truth a rather simple man. He enjoyed the more modest things in life, like the cooling breeze of the summer wind and the refreshing taste of a cold Arizona Iced Tea (a locally produced drink, of course).

But perhaps more than anything he enjoyed sitting out on the ranch’s porch, leaning far back on his grandfather’s old oak rocking chair. It was relaxed. Peaceful. He had not a care in the world when he had sat down, understandably, as he never really did - but he was sure that, if he  _ had _ , it would all be gone now. That’s the kind of tranquility he found.

...And then he saw something. Just briefly, out the corner of his eye, like a tiny glimmer in the distance. He slid down his sun shades and took another look. There was certainly  _ something _ out there. Right at the very tip-top of Giant’s Hill, the tallest mountain in all of Arizona. He couldn’t make out exactly what it was - it was  _ far _ to far for that. But it had caught his eye, he was sure, for a  _ reason. _

“Matthew!” He called out to the ranch behind him in commanding yet respectable tone. 

Young Matthew ‘the Ratt’ Watson emerged from within, where he had been cleaning the lavertries with his own toothbrush. He was a frail figure of a boy, severely malnourished and damn near at Death’s door. But Ryan loved him all the same. No other servant man-slave-boy could ever compete with Matthew’s devotion and loyalty, after all.

“Mathew, come here!” Ryan called out again.

The thin skeleton of a man slithered his way slowly over to his master. “Wh-What can I do for you, Ryan?” He squeaked, his tongue flopped out from his mouth - a symptom of the severe dehydration.

“See that over there?” Ryan struck a strong and magnificent finger westword, to the large mountain that overlooked his ranch. He gave a hearty pat to Matthew’s back, causing the poor boy to rattle somewhat, as his mighty point angled to the glimmer atop Giant’s Hill. “Over there!” He grinned his impeccable smile at Matthew. “I want you to go up on that there mountain and get me whatever is spacklin’ up at the top!”

Matthew turned his withered head to his master. “Well geez mister, um... I don’t know if I can make it all that way, given my limbs are all grated to the bone...” It pained him deeply to talk back to his master’s request. He felt as though he should be severely beaten for even suggesting such a thing, though he knew full well that Ryan would never harm him. And for that he was eternally grateful.

Ryan looked over his poor servant slave-man-boy with a sorrow in his eyes. He had tried with all his might to get the lad fed good and right, but no matter how much he tried Matthew would always remain the malnourished bag of skin and bone he had raised from young. “Now you know what? Here’s what we’re gonna do...”

Matthew looked up at Ryan, his eyes glazed and weak, in anticipation for his master’s suggestion. One he  _ knew _ would be awe-inspiring.

“I just worked out my calves a lot last much. In fact three hours a day!” He smirked, proud of the magnificent body he had chiseled to perfection. Ryan’s calves were almost  _ bursting _ . They were so large and strong they looked as if they could tear his skin apart at any moment and, in fact,  _ had _ done so many a time, leaving Ryan to stitch them back up.

With an admiration that could cut diamonds, Matt ran his dry and blistered eyes all over Ryan’s magnificent calves. They were so big and massive and very impressive and  _ sexy _ , and they had an incredible amount of hair on them, likely because Ryan was an alpha male. You would never catch cowboy Ryan doing the beta male smile, though it was something servant Matthew was known to do frequently. Matthew would often bare a bright beta male smile to the camera’s lense as he took pictures with Ryan’s livestock, his teeth exposed like a true beta male would. It was rather pathetic, frankly

“I’ve been working out my calves,” Ryan continued, “so why don’t you grab on my back hairs, hold on tight, and I-I-I’ll carry us up the mountain!” He gave another heavy pat to Ryan’s brittle back. “But I’m gonna need you to grab hold of whatever that sparkly doohickey is.”

“O-Okay!” Matthew smiled brightly with all the energy he could. “Okay, cowboy Ryan!”

Ryan took to one knee in a pose that would inspire millions had it been caught on film. Matthew carefully gripped his thin and needily fingers, that rather resemble uncooked spaghetti, around Ryan’s back hairs and hoisted himself into a carryable stance upon Ryan’s bare back. Ryan Mason Dixon Magee never wore shirts, of course. Only jorts - cut-off jean shorts, specifically. They helped immensely with the hot weather in Arizona. Similarly, Ryan was seldom seen without his fine straw hat and Lance Armstrong LIVESTRONG wristband, a striking yellow.

Standing tall now, Ryan looked like something of a god carrying a sick and needy child-man. His magnificent body stood proud in the sunlight, as his jorts slipped down slightly to reveal part of the mason-dixon line tattooed on his pelvis. With a quick crack of his neck, as if a warning signal to Matthew translatable to ‘you ready?’, cowboy Ryan began to run at breakneck speed across his ranch.

...But then a problem arose. Ryan realized suddenly that he had forgotten to phone his beautiful wife to inform her of his journey. She had always told him to call ahead, to give her some sign he’d be making his way up that mountain, to the tip of Giant’s Hill. He could imagine her vividly in his mind telling him “Ryan Magee Mason Dixon, don’t you  _ dare _ go to the top of that mountain without tellin’ me first!” The thought of disappointing his wife drove a dagger through his heart.

The sun was setting now, amplifying the problem tenfold. If Ryan were to turn back now, there simply wouldn’t be enough time. He knew in his heart that he  _ must _ go back and tell his wife of his journey - to save her the dread of wondering why her darling husband had not yet returned home. But if he turned back now... Then his chance to reclaim the unknown glimmer atop the mountain could be lost  _ forever. _

He took a deep breath. He knew what had to be done - what  _ logic _ would dictate as the right and lawful decision for him to make. He would simply need to remove his legs and give them to Matthew, so Matthew would then have his beautiful set of legs. Even if it meant Ryan would then have Matthew’s skinny little legs.

He set Matthew down, earning him a confused look from the poor slave-man-boy. Without another word, he carefully cut himself in two - slicing at his lower torso, where his mason-dixon tattoo lay. He then performed a similar split on Matthew, though cutting through the lad was much simpler than it had been for his own body.

Ryan put on his new skinny little legs and began back toward his ranch, off on his way to tell his wife of his journey, and leaving Matthew with his large calves.

Matthew got to his newfound feet. He had never felt strength like this before - legs so efficient and beautiful they could kick clean through diamond, he was sure. He hopped forward energetically, ready to scale the mountain.

His foot pressed to the rocky floor below and something  _ clicked. _ Suddenly a rush of clocks spun by, dizzying him immensely. His vision blurred and all sound began to muffel, until he simply couldn’t take it any longer. He thunked to the floor with a haze, passed out.

...Time had turned back. Matthew was back on the ground below, looking up at his master, who was just beginning to cut through his own torso. Had all that been a dream...? Had he  _ imagined _ that future? He opened his mouth to tell his master of it, but closed it again before any words came out. Better to let him concentrate, he thought.

Ryan turned to Matthew following his own severing and began to slice through Matthew’s waist. After a few modest cracking sounds, his legs had been cleanly split from his body.

But Ryan seemed...  _ Off _ . As if he was reconsidering the decision. With a deep sigh, Ryan began to stitch Matthew’s legs back onto his body, and then his own back to his own body, until they were both back to they had been moments before.

And then, just as quickly as he had changed his mind before, he once again chopped his and Matthew’s legs off. He gave a soft smile to his servant boy as he swapped their legs around. “This shiny sparkly thing means so much to me, Matthew, that I want you to go home and pleasure my ethnically diverse wife.”


	2. Night Falls

Ryan was a younger man when he and his ethnically diverse wife first met. She had come to the local farmer’s market to sell her father’s strawberries, and had only seen Ryan from the corner of her eye when she knew she had found  _ the one. _ It took great courage for her to approach him, though he responded with such charm and charisma that she simply couldn’t resist dedicating herself to him then and there.

It was a warm autumn evening when Ryan proposed to her. The harvest had just come in, so rich and plentiful, that all local folk had gathered together for a celebration. The orange tones of the twilight sky reflected beautifully off her ambiguously coloured skin as she held tightly to Ryan’s strong and manly hand. He let go for a moment and she was shocked - distressed, even - but all that changed when Ryan took to his knee and removed a small black box from the pocket of his jorts.

The wedding was held in the spring as blossom floated through the Arizona air like the light wings of a butterfly. It was Matthew who had been tasked with bringing the rings down the aisle for them, but he had collapsed from pneumonia halfway there. What beautiful memories those were.

And now, here at the foot of Giant’s Hill, with their legs jutting out from one another’s bodies, Ryan was once again entrusting Matthew with a great task. “Y-You sure, boss?” Matthew asked, his jaw agape. “You sure you don’t want to go have sex with your ethnically diverse and beautiful, very appropriately dressed wife?”

“Yes.” He nodded peacefully, before turning his attention toward the mountain overlooking them. “This sparkly thing is the only thing I need.”

Ryan gave Matthew a little push with his new found beautifully calved legs. They were, of course,  _ Matthew’s _ legs now - pathetically thin and skeleton-like, and not at all beautifully calved. But the push seemed to do the trick nonetheless, and Matthew booked it back to Ryan’s ranch, ready to pleasure Ryan’s wife as best as he could.

Now alone at the foot of Giant’s Hill, Ryan began to run up the mountain, albeit slower now, as his new legs were severely malnourished. A few steps in, Ryan paused once again - the path was far too bumpy to make it up with these fragile legs. There were jagged rocks and iron deposits all around. Giant’s Hill used to garner a great amount of attention for its iron deposits, after all. Which once earned it the name of  _ Iron _ Giant’s Hill, long ago.

Looking up at the path ahead, cowboy Ryan smirked quietly in the light of the setting sun. He still had some  _ big _ arms, similar to his sizeable calves. Some truly incredible arms, really ripped, beautifully oiled bi’s and tri’s that don’t have weird, strange stray hairs growing out of them that he’d have to pluck every few weeks or so. They were perfectly shaved, actually.

“Y’know what?” Ryan voiced to himself. “These legs ain’t doin’  _ shit. _ ” And with that, he began to run with only his arms, not unlike the second boss from the Playstation 2 game  _ Sly Cooper and the Thievius Racoonus. _ He began to run up the mountain, grabbing onto rocks and ripping his way up.

But the sun was setting fast. Ryan Mason Dixon Magee was not supposed to be up on the mountain when the sun was down...  _ Because that’s when the monsters came out. _

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Matthew had just made it to the front door of Ryan’s ranch. He was amazed at how little of a sweat he had built up running over - Ryan’s legs were truly a gift from god, to be sure. He knocked on the door and awaited its opening, somewhat nervous.

The door parted, and the face of Ryan’s ethnically diverse wife peered from behind. “Oh my!” She exclaimed, her eyes down at Matthew’s newfound legs. “Those look like the love-of-my-life’s legs!” She gasped. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, well, um...” Matthew stammered. “H-He said that it’s, that it’s-” He reached back quickly and removed a small sheet of paper from his back pocket - one that Ryan had given him before leaving the mountain. “I-It’s time for, um...” He opened the paper and read it carefully, squinting at the words scrawled upon it. “For  _ fuckin’ _ time.”

Ryan’s ethnically diverse wife understood immediately, and began to let out a hearty mating call. “AWOOGA! AWOOGA!” She called loudly, before ripping off her blouse to reveal a cock with the tip of a pussy - not unlike when you think of a lion with the head of a tiger, whatever that means.

For what it’s worth, Ryan Mason Dixon Magee is not  _ only _ a rancher - but a notorious trans ally.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ryan was ripping and tearing his way up the mountain, knocking down trees with his biceps. He roared like a lion, singing merrily on his way. “God’s not dead, he’s surely alive! He’s living on the inside roaring like a lion! God is not a man, god is not a white man. God is not a man sitting on the clouds!~”

These songs helped Ryan to scale the mountain, and he was about a mile away from its peak now. But all of a sudden the sun, ever creeping toward the horizon, descended just far enough to block out its warming bloom.

It was dark now.

Ryan slammed the breaks on his biceps. “Aw shucks...” He muttered. “I shouldn’t be up here on this here mountainside when it’s dark ‘cause that’s when the monsters come out.”

He peered down the mountainside at the ranch below. There was just one light on - that of his bedroom.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Malnourished little slave-helper Matt was now desperately giving Ryan’s ethnically diverse wife CPR because he was so good at sex - better than Ryan ever was, frankly - that she was completely blown away and had  _ accidentally had a heart attack. _

“O-Oh no!!” Matthew panicked.

But then a lightbulb went off in his head as a memory returned to him: he had once read a story to Ryan’s kids, who were now unfortunately dead. That story read that true love’s kiss would save the princess... That had to have been a sign!

“The wife must be the princess in this situation!” He thought to himself. “A-And true love must be me, because I’m good at giving sex!”

He ducked down quickly and gave Ryan’s ethnically diverse wife a kiss.

...But nothing happened.

He was really worried now, and began to cry. Ryan’s beautiful wife of ambiguous origin... Ryan had trusted  _ him _ to pleasure her, and now she would die because of it?!

A haunting howl echoed through the woods, drawing his attention of the window at the moonlight mountain above. Giant’s Hill, where Ryan had gone to reclaim the sparkly thing... Ryan’s ethnically diverse wife was in trouble, and he didn’t even know! What dramatic irony.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Damn, I  _ know. _ ” Ryan muttered to himself. “I  _ know _ he can pleasure her good.” He took a deep breath and turned back to the remaining length above him. It wasn’t long to go now but-

Another howl echoed through the air. A wolf?! Wait, no... Could it be?? A  _ werewolf?!  _ He turned quickly, looking all around and peering through the pine trees.

“Oh _ shit! _ ” He exclaimed. “There’s monsters up here! I better get to the top  _ real fast! _ ”

He began to run up the mountain again, using his mighty strong arms. But it was so dark now, and he began to lose his handwork. He was slipping, and he couldn’t see where the rocks were because of how little light illuminated his way. The only thing he could see now... Was that sparkle. And so he continued his ascent - it was the only thing he  _ could _ do.

**Suddenly, something very bad happened.** Ryan chipped one of his cherry red French-tip nails on a rock, which completely inebriated him. He screamed loudly, holding his cracked nail.  _ How could this be?! _ He panicked. He had just painted them this morning and they looked so good!

There were monsters on the mountainside all around now. He had to get to the top, which was  _ so _ close, but he couldn’t use his hands anymore - the risk of breaking a nail was just too strong.

“...I’m going to have to use Matthew’s malnourished legs for this.” He inhaled deeply, building the inner strength he needed for the task.

As a true hero would, he hiked up his jorts and put his all into it, charing up the mountain. But he could hear the monsters growing closer.

Thankfully Matthew’s legs were  _ long _ , and it only took three swoops of his legs to get him to the top, where he was finally face-to-face with the sparkling object he had wanted so badly.

It continued to glimmer on the moonlight, but it appeared to have some dirt covering it - so much so that Ryan could not yet tell what it was. He began to dust it off, eager to discover the answer he needed, but a scream drew his attention away once again.

The scream had originated from toward the ranch, where Matthew had been pleasuring Ryan’s ethnically diverse wife. He squinted and saw a figure approach him.

“R-Ryan!” Matthew panted as he scaled the mountain quickly, one leg hopping his way up the mountainside as the other firmly cradled Ryan’s ethnically diverse wife. “Quick, Ryan! You must kiss the wife!”

Ryan turned back to the object and, to his horror, saw that it had begun to  _ disintegrate. _ Only one person could be graced with its true majesty, and the arrival of Matthew and Ryan’s ethnically diverse wife had caused an imbalance.

“WAIT A SECOND!” Ryan pleaded quickly. “Malnourished Matt, wait! With beautiful legs and my wife - my  _ ethnically diverse wife _ \- please, please don’t come up here!

“But your wife is  _ dead! _ ” Matthew sobbed.

Ryan looked back and forth between the disappearing sparkling object masked by dirt, of origin he had yet to know, and his beautiful and ethnically diverse wife whom he loved so dearly.

His eyes lit up suddenly as he understood what he had to do. He quickly ripped off his own two lips from his beautiful face and threw them toward Matthew and his ethnically diverse wife, before turning back to the object atop Giant’s Hill.

Matthew fell back and began to fall down the mountain, but before his very long journey down - in which he would surely tumble and break every bone in his frail and skeleton-like body - he could clearly see Ryan’s perfect lips land squarely on the lips of his ethnically diverse wife. A single tear dropped from his eye as he fell, knowing in his heart that she would be alright.

The sparkling object atop the mountain, now alone with Ryan once again, had stopped disintegrating. He wiped away the dust further and further.

...Sneakers. They were a new pair of sneakers. Ones that had barely hit store shelves.


	3. A Different Kind of Beast

A wizard suddenly appeared with a poof. He flicked a finger through his long and curly beard, eyeing Ryan with a wise look on his face. “StockX.”

Ryan looked up at him, blinking.

“If you want the hottest new sneakers, it’s a revolutionary new marketplace for buying and selling 100% authentic sneakers, streetwear, watches, and handbags!” The wizard joyfully informed. “Millions are already using StockX to find everything after it sells out - from the latest Yeezy’s to every retro Jordan’s, to the  _ hottest _ new street wear from brands like Supreme, Bape, Palace, and Kith.”

With another poof, the wizard had donned a Supreme hoodie. Ryan’s eyes lit up, wanting one badly.

“StockX even allows users to buy and sell preowned, excellent conditioned luxury handbags and watches from brands like Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Gucci, Rolex, Omega, and  _ more! _ ”

Ryan began to speak now, though somewhat muffled as his lips were still missing. He recalled the adread outline written in the email he had received earlier that week. “Motivate your audience... Talk about your experience with the product/service... Copy one to two topics to rotate into your spot.”

“StockX uses the same principles as the stock market to make buying and selling as safe and easy as possible!” The wizard continued. “They have real-time market data for intelligent buying and selling, and gives you access to tons of historical price data - you can see  _ exactly _ how a product has sold for in the past and how much it’s selling for now. But best of all, StockX has removed  _ all _ of the risk from buying and selling online!”

Ryan was astonished, his eyes agape. His lips still missing. “But what if I’m scared of being ripped off??”

“Well that’s where total anonymity between the buy and seller...” The wizard checked the adread outline again. “StockX is in the middle, so you never have to deal with a random buyer/seller again! They have experts who verify every item making sure everything you buy is 100% authentic, and never gets burned by fakes again.”

Matthew, at the bottom of the mountain in a broken mess of bones, looks to Ryan’s ethnically diverse wife’s eyes. Ryan’s lips... Did it work?!

Her eyes began to open gradually, and slowly her voice came forth. “Matthew... You’ve pleasured me more than anyone’s ever pleasured me...” She blushed. “ _...And I think I love you~ _ ”

Matthew was  _ astonished. _ “You have to understand, Mrs. Mason Dixon Magee, I was just trying to help your husband out...” He closes his eyes, knowing his devotion to Ryan was stronger than any love he could ever feel. “We can never be together.”

Suddenly, Ryan came down the mountain on a skateboard, a guitar lick echoing through the air as he arrived. He looked at his wife, and then at the poor man-slave-boy. Tears began to well in his eyes. “Go to StockX.com/MegaCast, now! StockX.com/MegaCast. Stockx.” He repeated. “Now you know!”

“Wait,” Matthew replied, “Did you say StockX.com/MegaCast?”

“That’s what I said.” Ryan nodded.

And then all three - Ryan, Matthew, and Ryan’s ethnically diverse wife, all joined together in harmony to repeat Ryan’s message. “Go to StockX.com/Megacast.”

The next morning, all the towns people in the beautiful country town of Arizona, New Mexico all went to StockX. And everyone lived happily ever after -  _ and _ they all got Bape hoodies and Gucci watches, and Yeezy’s.

From that day forward, Ryan was taming a different kind of beast altogether.  _ He was taming the hypebeast. _

Ryan, Matthew, and Ryan’s ethnically diverse wife then went on to have a polyamorous relationship, and had many children and lived happily ever after on Ryan’s Ranch.

Amen.


End file.
